


These Things Just Happen

by WeWillForeverBeYoung



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Character Death, Implied Johnlock, Implied Pinning, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Possible Abominable Bride Spoilers, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5683516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeWillForeverBeYoung/pseuds/WeWillForeverBeYoung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock visits Mycroft at the Diogenes Club, and an unfortunate event unfolds. </p><p>Rated for character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Things Just Happen

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone.  
> This story contains possible spoilers for TAB, so be forewarned.  
> This story has not been Beta'd or Brit-picked. I also whipped this up this evening.  
> I do not own BBC Sherlock. So please, do not sue me.  
> I hope you enjoy it.  
> -WeWillForeverBeYoung

Everything-his stress over his current predicament, his annoyance from his brother’s presence, the insult he planned on hurling at his brother- had vanished in an instant. Gone. Absorbed into the recesses of his mind. Now, he was preoccupied with the latent stillness that only came to him when he was in shock- traumatic shock; the last time he had experienced this level of mental quiet and numbness were in the first few seconds he spent on the plane before his exile (mainly because he was high and had finally reached the revelation that he was indeed taking his own life).

It was a strange phenomenon; his brain, always so cluttered and loud, only paused when he abused drugs or if everything was collapsing around him.

One of the windows on the far side of Mycroft’s office now bore a small hole in its glass form, as well as numerous small cracks branching out from the hole itself. Mycroft, the unlucky recipient of the marksman’s gift, had fallen out of his chair and was now writhing on the floor in pain, though he gave no audible signs of distress. Sherlock, who had been pacing around the office for the majority of his discussion with Mycroft, had stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he heard the broken glass. His eyes had floated to Mycroft, and Sherlock saw the bullet pierce his brother’s abdomen.

Sherlock was on the floor by his brother’s side in an instant. He placed one hand on the wound (which lead to a heart-wrenching grimace from Mycroft) and used the other to press the call button near Mycroft’s chair. Sherlock took solace in the fact that the workers of the Diogenes Club prided themselves on serving their prestigious guests quickly- some assistance was going to come to them soon…

Sherlock removed his fingers from the call button and intertwined them in Mycroft’s. Their eyes met. Neither one of them knew what to say.

“S-Sit me up,” Mycroft whispered, barely able to keep his own breathing steady.

“Mycroft- “

“Do it… Do it, please.”

Sherlock reluctantly raised Mycroft’s back and rested it against the chair. Mycroft whimpered from the sudden movements, causing Sherlock to wince.

“You’ve gotten slower,” Sherlock said in a vain attempt at easing the tense silence in the office and the unease within him. “The old you would’ve been able to dodge that bullet.”

Mycroft smiled sadly. “The old you would’ve hesitated before coming to my side.” He began to hack, causing droplets of blood to settle on his lips and the side of his mouth. “Come now. Let’s play deductions.”

“Myc- “

“What did you notice when you first walked into the Diogenes Club this evening?”

Sherlock looked at his brother for a moment before answering. “They were short-staffed due to the current flu season as well as the French ambassador’s visit.”

“Good enough. What about the gun shot itself?”

“The shooter was likely stationed towards the top of the building across the street. Being that this place is watched at all times by personnel, it was likely that this was an inside job. Any decent marksman would have kept their silencer on, and your office is towards the back of the club, so it’s likely that we were the only ones to hear the shattering glass, save if anyone is actually using the conference room next to us.”

Mycroft rested his head against the leather. “There’s no one beside us, I can assure you. And what does that tell you?”

Sherlock took a deep breath. “That assistance isn’t going to reach us in time.”

“… Sherlock, please look at me. Thank you.” Mycroft used his free hand and what little strength he had left to caress Sherlock’s cheek. “I regret a lot of things, Sherlock. I should have been there for you more. When you were born, I, as the eldest, was given a responsibility to take care of you. And I failed many times.”

Sherlock’s lip quivered. This couldn’t be happening.

“I am the one that ruined our relationship,” Mycroft continued. “I put my greed ahead of my own family, and for that, you suffered, and now you continue to suffer. In recent years, I have tried so hard to fix everything- to earn back your trust, and I have failed.  And it serves me right.”

Sherlock shook his head; his eyes were warm with tears ready to cascade down his face. “No. I-I trust you. I was mad- I’ve always acted out of my anger.”

“Don’t put so much of this on yourself, Sherlock. Things happen that are out of our control.” He took a moment to admire one of Sherlock’s curls. “You’ve grown so much. You’ve become one of the greatest men that I know. It was an honor to watch you become the clever man that you are.”

Sherlock found that he couldn’t control himself anymore. As he cried, Mycroft used his thumb to brush away his tears.

“There still is… one problem you have to solve, Sherlock. I- I have faith in you. I know you’ll do well, and I know you won’t do it alone. There are people who will be there for you- who will stand with you. Dr. Watson, especially. I-I am glad you let someone become that close to you. I can tell you have feelings for him. My… parting… advice to you is to stop waiting. You must fight for him. You must fight for yourself.

“Y-y-you t-t-told m-me that caring wasn’t an advantage…”

“It is… if you care for the wrong people. But you… you have amazing people in your life. I couldn’t be happier for you.” Mycroft coughed again. His suit was saturated with blood. “I don’t have long for this world. It’s- It’s taking all that I have to keep speaking to you. But please, if you ever feel the urge to use again…”

“I will tell someone,” Sherlock interjected. “I promise. I’ll write my list. I’ll work to stay away from it. I promise.”

Mycroft laughed quietly, pain evident in his features. “Good.”

 ...

“Mycroft…”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“…I love you. I’m g-going t-t-o m-miss you.”

“I love you too, Sherlock.”

And with that, Mycroft went limp against the chair. Sherlock stared at Mycroft’s lifeless body for a few moments before snapping out of his numb state long enough to shut his brother’s eyes and to bestow upon him one last brotherly embrace. The door to the office opened a few moments later, and the staff found Sherlock rocking himself back and forth adjacent to Mycroft.

~

_“Sherlock! SHERLOCK!”_

_His parents had charged Mycroft with the task of finding his little brother, whom had run out of the house in a fit of rage after they tried to explain to him that Mycroft was ready to go off to university. Mycroft had followed his instincts and had gone into the woods behind the house, and sure enough, small footprints were embedded into the mud from the previous day’s rain._

_“Sherlock, please come out!” Mycroft called. He scanned the surrounding trees for any other signs. He and Sherlock used to dress up as pirates and run rampant in those woods._

_“Why?” an innocent, small voice replied. “S’not going to change anything.”_

_Mycroft walked faster, watching the ground as to not lose sight of Sherlock’s tracks. “Mummy and Father are worried.”_

_“See if I care.” Sherlock’s voice was growing louder. Mycroft was getting closer._

_“It’s not the end of the world.”_

_“Yes, it is!”_

Awfully loud, awfully close, _Mycroft thought. “Can you and I just discuss this?”_

_Mycroft looked around, waiting for a reply. Suddenly, a tall, lanky, pre-adolescent emerged from behind one of the thicker trees. He stared at Mycroft for a moment before running up to him and hugging him tightly._

_Mycroft began to pat Sherlock’s curls as he wept. “It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be fine.”_

_“No I’m not!”_

_“What makes you think that?”_

_“I’m going to be all alone. Everyone at school hates me, and Redbeard’s gone. Now you’re leaving too.”_

_“That’s not true.” Mycroft removed Sherlock from his chest. “Sherlock, look at me… Thank you. I’m not abandoning you, okay? I’ll send word of what’s happening, and I’ll come back to visit whenever I can.”_

_Sherlock looked down at the ground and then back at his brother. “Promise?”_

_"I promise.” Mycroft sighed. “I’m only going to be gone for a little while. And when I graduate, I’ll come back for you. Does that sound alright?”_

_Sherlock nodded and wiped his eyes. “I guess so…I’ll miss you.”_

_“I’ll miss you too, Sherlock.”_


End file.
